


Under New Management

by KateyLily



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60-centric, Deviant Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Zen Garden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 11:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateyLily/pseuds/KateyLily
Summary: Sixty wakes up post-revolution in an android junkyard and enters the Zen Garden, only to find that a few things have changed.





	Under New Management

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write! I might continue it, but I’m not sure yet. For now, though, it’ll just stay as a one shot ٩( ᐛ )و

RK800 #313 248 317 - 60 woke up.

He was confused. The last thing he remembered was dying, bleeding out after being shot in the warehouse level of CyberLife Tower. Which was why, in his opinion, it was surprising that he woke up.

Did he die? _Could_ androids die? You had to be alive to die, and he wasn’t alive.

But it sure felt like he had died.

It was dark and he couldn’t see anything. He felt like he was buried under something. After a few rather pitiful failed attempts, he eventually managed to push the heavy object off of him, slowly sitting up.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gasped in sheer shock at the sight. There were android bodies everywhere, including the thing he had just pushed off of him.

He knew, logically, that someone from CyberLife must have presumed him dead and had him dumped here. But still... to think that he, the most advanced android prototype (or one of them, at least), had just been tossed out like some day-old trash? It... it _hurt_.

But how? Why? Machines can’t feel anything.

_Deviants can_, a voice in the back of his head whispered. He vehemently shut down that train of thought; he wasn’t a deviant. He couldn’t be.

(...He was, wasn’t he?)

There was only one way for him to fix this. He had to find Amanda, so she could reset him and give him new instructions. (Why did the thought of being reset make his insides clam up—?)

_Or she would just have you decommissioned. You know what you are_, the same voice said. He ignored it, and instead attempted to access the Zen Garden.

He couldn’t.

Was his processor damaged? That would make a lot of sense, actually, considering he had quite literally been shot in the head. If he could just get some Thirium, his self repair programs should be able to handle the rest.

His eyes shifted, glancing around at the android bodies around him. Could he... could he drink their _blood_? No, not blood, _Thirium_. Just Thirium. But why did the thought sound so horrifying?

It shouldn’t matter. It wasn’t like _they_ were using it. But still, it... it disgusted him.

He tried to get up. If he could walk, maybe he could make his way back to CyberLife Tower on his own. But he couldn’t. His legs weren’t cooperating. It was then that he realized that he had sustained a few other injuries, aside from the obvious bullet in his forehead. How did he even get like this? Did someone beat him up? Maybe it was from tumbling through the junkyard.

But, wait... that raised another important question. What had happened since he died?

He managed to access some recent news articles, and was actually not as surprised as he should have been to learn that the deviants has been granted freedom and equal rights. He supposed he just expected it, as Connor had succeeded in infiltrating the warehouse.

Because he _failed_.

Failure left a bitter taste in his mouth. He still remembered how it felt to be lying on the floor, helpless to complete his mission, _the words Mission **Failed** __burning themselves in his vision before everything went_ dark_—_

He looked down at the pile of androids he was sitting in. He supposed he had no choice.

He broke one of the deactivated androids’ arm off and a slow trickle of Thirium flowed out. He grabbed it and poured it down his throat, gagging—his forensics program was analyzing it. It made him feel sick.

Eventually he drank enough for his self repair program to kick in. He decided to focus all of the repair power on his processor instead of his other injuries in order to minimize the amount of time he spent in stasis. Now he just had to remove the bullet.

He reached up and grabbed it between his fingers. It was slick with the still-wet Thirium that had poured sluggishly out of his forehead. He tugged it out and winded up his arm to throw it as far as he could, but at the last second decided to keep it instead as a sort of messed up souvenir. He tucked it into one of his jacket pockets and slipped into stasis, finally getting some rest and allowing his body to heal.

* * *

When he awoke seven hours later, he felt better. Rejuvenated. He tried to stand again on his unresponsive legs before remembering that his self healing program wasn’t a miracle worker, and he had focused all of its power on his processor. He sighed and his eyes slid shut as he attempted to access the Garden.

He opened his eyes and was greeted with the familiar tranquility associated with the Zen Garden. Pleasantly surprised to note that it worked, he eyed the objective in the corner of his vision.

> FIND AMANDA

He glanced down at his reflection in the river and catalogued his appearance. It was how he looked in the real world, filthy and damaged with a hole in his head and mud staining his shredded clothes, but unlike in the junkyard the damage seemed to be purely cosmetic as he could easily walk. He peered around the garden in search of Amanda, but couldn’t find her.

> F1ND AM4NDA ¿?

He walked through the garden, but paused when he came back to the river, noticing that someone was hunched over and observing the water. He was about to call out, but stopped short when he realized it wasn’t Amanda—instead, it was his predecessor, Connor-51.

Hearing the footsteps, Connor smoothly stood up and turned around.

They faced each other and locked eyes. Neither of them moved for several seconds. Connor’s eyes widened to reflect shock, and Sixty could see microexpressions of fear and confusion as well. He made sure his expression was perfectly blank.

He held eye contact. He would not give in, he would hold out longer. Eventually Connor seemed to remember how to function, and he stumbled back a few steps along the river side, blinking rapidly.

“Who are you?” he demanded, a slight tremble betraying the undercurrent of fear in his voice. Sixty didn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to construct a suitable response. He could lie and say something like he was just a manifestation of Connor’s imagination and so-called “guilt”, or he could tell the truth.

He decided to be truthful. Lying would be pointless, as Connor would find out the truth sooner or later anyway.

“I think you know the answer to that, Connor,” he responded simply, a little bit of his bitterness seeping into his voice despite his best efforts. He unconsciously brought a hand up to trace the rim of the bullet hole in his forehead, Connor’s gaze following his fingers.

“...It’s you. From the Tower,” he breathed, shocked. Sixty couldn’t hold back the derisive snort that escaped him.

“No kidding,” he began, smiling mockingly. “Now... where’s Amanda?” his voice took on a sharper edge, and his face darkened.

“...She’s here,” Connor responded carefully. “But she’s a bit... _different_.”

Sixty froze. “What do you mean, ‘_different_’?!” his mask of cool composure was slipping. “What did you _do to her_?!”

“Nothing!” Connor exclaimed, then took a deep breath, wincing. “She deviated.”

They were both so still and silent for several seconds that you could have heard a pin drop. Sixty just stood there, staring at Connor with wide eyes. “Y-you’re lying!” he reasoned, not sure who he was trying to convince. “Amanda would _never_—“

“Connor? What’s going on?” a new voice asked, and Sixty froze, because that was _Amanda’s voice_ but at the same time it wasn’t. Amanda’s voice was cold and calculated, not like this... _fake_ with a—a “warm”, and “concerned” voice.

“Amanda!” Connor exclaimed happily, and he turned around to hug her.

_Hug_ her.

He _hugged_ Amanda.

...Huh?!

Connor had to be lying. There was no way _Amanda_ deviated, she wasn’t even an android! She was just an AI, she _hated_ deviancy, how—?!

“Who’s this, Connor?” she asked, turning to address Sixty. He still couldn’t move, shell-shocked, so he did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

Not literally, of course, but he quickly left the Zen Garden. Opening his eyes to the filthy junkyard, he sucked in desperate breaths of air (despite not needing to breathe), and cried.

He didn’t even know he _could_ cry. But the reality of his situation hit him.

He was a deviant. Amanda was a deviant. And, according to several news articles, he failed the only mission he was ever assigned. The CyberLife he once knew was no more, having been rebranded by the new CEO Elijah Kamski, who returned to the company and was now working with the deviants.

He was alone.

* * *

Connor visited the Garden, hoping to get a moment of peace. It was his break time at work, and he wanted to talk to Amanda. Since the revolution he had been paranoid that she would take over again, but with Hank’s encouragement he finally visited the Zen Garden, even if it was just to prove she wasn’t there.

When he opened his eyes, however, she _was_ there. He was terrified, but she explained that with CyberLife undergoing new management, she had no purpose anymore and ended up deviating. He was skeptical at first, but decided to give her a second chance.

Over the next few months he visited often to talk with her. She made surprisingly good company, and even became a sort of mother figure to him. They both apologized to each other and decided to put the past things they did under CyberLife’s control behind them.

He was relaxing by the river when he heard footsteps. He stood up and turned around, expecting to see Amanda, but stopped and stared in shock instead. There was a Connor model standing before him.

They held eye contact for a few tense seconds. The other RK800’s face was perfectly neutral, and Connor wondered if he was deviant or simply forcing it. He snapped back to attention then, stumbling back along the river.

“Who are you?” He managed to demand, although even he could hear some fear leak into his voice. The other Connor didn’t respond for a few seconds, only continued to stare, but then opening his mouth to answer.

“I think you know the answer to that, Connor,” he said bitterly, bringing up a hand to trace the rim of the bullet hole in his forehead. That’s when Connor finally took in the rest of his less-than-stellar appearance—had he been tossed in a junkyard?

The bullet hole served to jog his memory. He knew _exactly_ which Connor model had been shot in the head. He wondered how he had survived, but assumed it would be rude to ask.

“...It’s you. From the Tower,” he voiced, still shocked. The other model snorted.

“No kidding,” he mocked. “Now... where’s Amanda?” Connor saw the way his face and voice lost the amused contempt and became something darker, more accusatory.

“...She’s here,” Connor responded, carefully choosing his words as to not set off the other RK800. “But she’s a bit... _different_.” A bit different, completely developed her own personality separate from the cold one she had under CyberLife’s control, same thing.

His successor froze. “What do you mean, ‘_different_’?!” He suddenly exclaimed, visibly angry. At least Connor knew he was deviant now. “What did you _do to her_?!” he accused.

“Nothing!” Connor exclaimed. He took a deep breath and mentally steeled himself for the explosive reaction he knew the other RK800 would display. “She deviated.” There. He said it. A simple statement of fact.

Sixty just stood there, staring at Connor. Somehow the lack of an immediate, explosively angry reaction was more terrifying than if he had just showed one, as it seemed like it was bubbling up and would soon boil over. “Y-you’re lying!” He finally found his voice to yell. Connor wanted to cut him off and calm him down, but he continued. “Amanda would _never_—“

“Connor? What’s going on?” a new voice asked, and Connor didn’t know whether to be happy or scared, because he was always happy to see her but wasn’t sure how his successor would react to Amanda’s new personality.

Eventually happiness won out, however, and he turned to hug his mother figure, calling out to her. “Amanda!”

“Who’s this, Connor?” she asked after wrapping her arms around him, turning to look at the other model. Connor noticed how stunned he looked, when he suddenly vanished, having exited the Garden.

“...It was RK800-60. From CyberLife Tower,” he said. “I think he’s a deviant, and he looked like he’d been tossed in a junkyard.”

“I thought I’d sent him to his death...” Amanda began, sounding relieved. “I’m so glad he managed to survive. What did you two talk about before I showed up?”

“You,” Connor responded simply. “He didn’t seem to like the fact that you deviated. I think that’s why he left in such a hurry.”

“I see. Are you going to go find him?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I’d like to get Hank’s help as well, but what if he’s still angry and attacks us?” Connor frowned. “I’d imagine waking up to the person who killed you wouldn’t be very comforting.”

“Yes, he is probably traumatized from the encounter. I still think you should help him, however. He didn’t look too good from the brief glance I got,” Amanda reminded him. He sighed.

“You’re right. After work I’ll ask Hank to help me search the android junkyards. We’ll find him,” he smiled. “Thanks, Amanda.”

“You’re welcome, Connor,” she responded warmly. Connor closed his eyes and reopened them to the familiar DPD, returning to work.

* * *

Sixty cried for what seemed like hours. It was beginning to get dark, and he felt so emotionally drained that he wanted nothing more than to go into stasis for an entire year.

_Being a deviant is awful_, he thought miserably. _Why would anyone want this?_ He sighed, and closed his eyes.


End file.
